Confessions and Rejections
by MEBA13
Summary: In which John and Sherlock have a little domestic. Bit angsty. Resubmitted for errors in spacing. Collaboration with HoneyYouShouldSeeMeInACrown. Please read and review!


**In which Sherlock and John have a little domestic, co written with - Honeyyoushouldseemeinacrown**

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Sherlock tensed as he heard John's footsteps on the stairs of the flat. Things had gone bad, worse than bad. He'd finally gotten up the courage to tell John that he was in love with him only have his heart crushed and be insulted by his shocked flatmate, the words 'freak' and 'machine the most painful of all, before John had run of down the stairs. The detective stepped up to the window to maneuver back to the door.

John hammered down the stairs not thinking, he ran straight out the door and off down the street to the small park. He promptly planted himself in the closest park bench and began to reflect as one might do right after a shock has been registered. John had been confessed to. By Sherlock Holmes. Of all people that amazing, insane, bloody brilliant man. John had been scared and blown up. He had not expected to look up one sunny afternoon to see Sherlock standing there in the doorframe eyes trained at the floor. John had certainly not expected the words to come out of his mouth. "I love you John Watson." his eyes had burned holes in John's head and John could not contain himself. The man, the freak, the robot sociopath. Sherlock loved him. Sherlock loved John.

Sherlock allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks whilst he was alone, giving himself five minutes to grieve the pain before he would shut himself down and block out any emotions for good. Stage one, he had to get John out of the flat. He cringed at the way his heart ached at the thought.

John sat and he thought. To anyone who was looking it appeared as though he was working a difficult maths problem in his head. Although not many people got teary-eyed over maths. John knew for sure he had hurt Sherlock He could see it in his eyes as he spat his insults at the man. His eyes became unfocused as though not wanting to let the words get to him. As he brushed by Sherlock he was tense and flinched away from John's rushing form. John didn't know why he had acted in such a way. He was a doctor, and was trained to not be affected by shock like other people. Maybe these laws didn't apply to love. John had known for a long while that he did love Sherlock but had never given in to the thoughts, never let his want bother him. He ignored himself. John knew what he had to do. He got up and began to walk with a slow pace back to where he had come from.

The detective took one last deep breath before he tore himself away from the window. Quickly he grabbed the gun from the drawer, firing each bullet into the wall knowing it would annoy his flatmate. Taking a pause he began to rack his brains for every detail that had driven flatmates away in the past. Using every single body part he had on loan he began to create gruesome displays within the kitchen appliances, even putting a leg in the bath , an area he'd sworn to leave clean of experiments to John.

John approached the front door, hearing the faint sound of gun shots, more than one obviously so he wasn't too worried for Sherlock's health. He stood at the stoop for nearly ten minutes hesitating before opening the door and walking inside. As he climbed the stairs he took deep breaths ready for whatever was to come next.

Sherlock felt his whole body tense at the sound of John upon the stairs. Distance will allow strength, he determined, sitting behind the desk and beginning to examine a cold case file that Lestrade had given him.

"Sherlock" John began. "I'm sorry. I am so dreadfully sorry for the things I said to you." The only sign Sherlock had even heard John was the clenching of his hand upon the file. "I didn't mean it." John's eyes began to glisten. "I was in shock, none of those things are true, the things I said...I just...I don't know why..." John's hands curled into tight fists at the sides of his trousers.

Sherlock ignored John's perceived lies. "Doctor Watson I am not interested in your feelings, nor your emotional state." He replied coldly. "You said you loved me!" exclaimed John. Some tears had slipped past his waterline and began to leave tracks down his cheeks. "Do not worry. I shall not allow my emotions to effect me again. Like the machine I am I must keep impassive." "I-But Sherlock!" John started. A wave of emotion flooded him. "I love you too!" "The only reason I was upset is because I was trying to keep it from myself that I loved you back! I didn't want my walls of protection to fall down Sherlock!"

Sherlock swallowed a lump in his throat, his hand clenching tighter. "What is the phrase...you missed the boat. Love is a worthless emotion and I will not allow it to permeate through me. John felt his face drain of all colour. His stomach dropped and all he was left with was the overwhelming sense of sadness flowed through his entire body making his hands and face cold. He had lost. God damn it! He was too late! The feeling of dread developed a new layer, a layer of sadness for Sherlock. He had hurt him so badly. It hurt his heart. John began to sob. It took all of Sherlock's strength to not go to John's side and comfort him. He focused his gaze on the desk as small tears built in his own eyes. John's stance shifted, tears running down his face.

He turned to Sherlock again and came forward a few steps, small steps. Sherlock clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to regain control of himself, not noticing John's movements. All John wanted in the world was Sherlock. He wanted Sherlock to hold him, to love him. He wished so hard to turn back the clock. John rounded the side of Sherlock's desk so he was at Sherlock's side. Sherlock's eyes were drawn to the movement, he leapt up from the seat startled by John's sudden close proximity. He quickly started to back away. John saw that Sherlock was backing away from him, good he deserved it after he had wronged him so, but there was not far for Sherlock to go, there was a wall directly behind him.

John stepped timidly forward until Sherlock was touching the wall and they were about two feet apart. The detective's eyes shot to the side trying to figure out weather or not he could make a bolt for the door before John got even closer. John saw Sherlock's eyes dart about, searching for an escape and he backed off. Relinquished. Defeated. John sat on the floor and cried. Sherlock's hands clenched the wall tightly as his breathing began to become erratic, anger pooling in his own mind at his inability to stop himself crying. John peered up at him, seeing the tears. He slowly reached out his arm. Not approaching, not insisting. Offering support if it was needed. John stayed very still. Sherlock's body trembled as he held back the sobs. "Why isn't it working? It should be blocked out. Why can I feel?" He gripped his hands in his hair digging his nails into his scalp.

John spoke, "You cannot suppress everything Sherlock. That's part of being human. You are very human Sherlock." John's voice cracked once and then he became silent once more. "I can't do this." He slumped to his knees. "I can't it leads to pain. Make it stop." John was conflicted, painfully so. He could either sit and watch Sherlock struggle with his emotions or he could try his best to contort him and risk being rejected. But how do you comfort a man such as this?

John leaned forward over Sherlock wrapping his arms around him lightly , ever so lightly. Praying to god Sherlock didn't try to flinch away from him. John's touch broke the fragile control that Sherlock held as the sobs finally broke through, all the pain he'd tried to subdue, all the fear, all the hateful words crashed upon him in one fell swoop. John fell Sherlock's barrier break, he stopped holding back and let all his tears flow.

It was disconcerting to John seeing such a man as this loose control. John slid so he was to the side of Sherlock and held him tighter, allowing his emotions their freedom. "It took me so long to say….so long to gain that courage….hurts so much….." He whispered absent-mindedly gripping John's jumper tightly. "I know Sherlock I am so _so_ sorry." John cried, "I don't know what I was thinking. Please forgive me…"

John was feeling so terribly that he just let the words tumble out. "Please…" he whispered. "Just a freak…" Sherlock whispered shakily. "Freaks can't love John."

"You are not a freak Sherlock, nor a robot or any of the other monstrosities that I let come out of my mouth earlier. You are not a freak." John squeezed Sherlock against him to punctuate his sentence. "Why did you want to hurt me? I don't understand…what did I do wrong?" "You did nothing wrong Sherlock, absolutely nothing." John swallowed, "I did not want to hurt you. I really didn't." "You did though." Sherlock whispered to himself, his body stilling. John felt Sherlock tense under his arms. "I know I did Sherlock. I know what I did wrong." John felt more guilt than he ever had before.

"The most painful part is that all my heart wants is to kiss you." He pulled away and stood up. "My head tells me to run." John stood in front of Sherlock. He was feeling the same as Sherlock was then. John touched Sherlock's cheek lightly with the back of his hand. "Me too." He whispered.

Sherlock couldn't help the way his head inclined into John's touch. "And I don't know which to listen to." John made up his mind. "I love you Sherlock." "I…I l-l-love y-you too." John leaned in slowly to touch his lips to Sherlock's something that was long overdue. John loved Sherlock so much that he could not stop himself. Sherlock's eyes flew wide, his mind screaming to push John away but his lips slowly began to move against John's. John leaned against Sherlock allowing him self to be completely absorbed by the him, letting his rational mind shut itself down as he twisted his fingers into Sherlocks curls. The kiss quickly turned passionate as Sherlock's arms wound around John's waist. How long had John wanted this? He couldn't remember, possibly sense he had first met him, and now here they were, kissing in the living room. Sherlock was amazing and he tasted like tea. Sherlock had pulled John closer, deepening the kiss as his body began to relax. John kissed Sherlock deeper now, more involved. John had forgotten about breathing, but whatever, breathing is boring anyways….

Eventually Sherlock pulled back for air. "Okay." When they finally separated John was quite lightheaded, his face flushed and his mind relaxed. "I forgive you." "You forgive me?" John repeated. "Oh god Sherlock, thank you so much." Sherlock settled into John's arms "Do it again."

And so they did.

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**Edited to make that one massive paragraph much less horrendous and congested. Sorry for that by the way. Yup.**


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